


Better Than Fancy Tech

by Enk



Category: Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character Study, Gen, possibly slightly au, unlikely friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8004859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enk/pseuds/Enk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She should have known Stark would come to her for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Fancy Tech

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/gifts).



> for owlmoose who wanted character driven fic intersecting movies and TV shows and moments that fall through the cracks of canon. Hope you enjoy

 

“What do you want?” She pours two fingers of Scotch into a clean enough glass and takes a swig from the bottle before pouring another glass for herself.

 

Stark doesn’t take the glass. Means he’s here for business. It annoys her. The only way she’s able to stand being in the same room as Tony Disaster Follows Me Everywhere Stark is when they’re equally shitfaced. They say his superpower is money or even his intelligence and knack for engineering, but Jessica knows better. Tony Stark’s superpower is annoying people to death. She takes another drink, makes a face when it burns all the way down her esophagus. Shouldn’t have bought discount moonshine disguised as Scotch. Her own fault though, she knew this had been coming. Between the incident at the docks and that idiot in Hell’s Kitchen who thinks the devil motif isn’t completely overwrought, it was just a matter of time before the leader of the Avengers came poking around in his own city. She looks at Stark. Of course, everyone thinks Steve Rogers is the leader but every organization needs a figure head. And who’s more of a poster boy than Captain America? Not that she thinks Stark is fit to lead himself to the nearest bar, but that’s how the world currently has to be.

 

“You know what I want.”

 

Oh, that’s the game he wants to play. Fine. Yeah, he’s right. She knows. She doesn’t even have to be a detective to know what with Star waltzing in with barely a text for warning. He’s not in a suit, so it’s not official. He’s alone, so it’s off the books. He’s holding a brown paper bag, something top shelf, so he wants something. And since there’s little Tony Stark needs, this is off the books, and that’s a two hundred dollar bottle of bourbon-

 

“You want my help to find Steve Rogers and his pre-frostbite friend.”

 

“You’re the best at what you do.” He looks uncomfortable, like his mind has looked at all possible outcomes and he knows this will end in rejection. And yet, he’s trying anyway.

 

“Flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere, but,” she closes the distance between them and takes the bottle of bourbon from his hand, “this just might.”

 

“Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.” Stark says and Jessica believes that.

 

They’d crossed paths before all this, before she’d managed to exorcise her demon. It hadn’t been pleasant for either of them and yet, they’d spent the entire night drinking together, lamenting a world before heroes and alien invasions. Stark offered her a place with the Avengers and she’d told him to go fuck himself. Didn’t quite end that way, but at least Stark promised he wouldn’t mention her to SHIELD. Then, not two months later, Stark accidentally unleashed an army of robots. Their encounter had been close enough in the timeline for some to assume causality and absolutely not. Now, the Avengers are tearing themselves apart over a guy frozen in ice for 80 years and a guy partially frozen in ice for 80 years under the guise of it being about some grander thing like the Sokovia Accords. Yeah, she’s not sorry she declined that clusterfuck. Here she thought her life was complicated.

 

“You’re telling me that all your tech and gadgets and access to super-secret spy satellites can’t find two guys in sassy outfits?”

 

“I have 24 hours and then I’m grounded.”

 

“Just another thing to bite you in the ass then.” She dumps the poor excuse for a Scotch into the sink, opens the bottle Stark brought, and takes a swig before pouring two glasses. Stark tries to hide how miserable he looks when he takes the glass from her. Not that he succeeds, Jessica used to blame her powers for her vigilance, her skills of observation. Anything to deny that she’s the best PI out there because of all the abuse she’s had to endure. Now, she just doesn’t think too much about it. Probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but she’s all about giving herself credit these days. Not enough to join Stark’s band of merry men though.

 

“I didn’t know what else to do.” Stark shrugs and sits down. And instead of pointing out that she’s never offered him a seat, Jessica sits down beside him. “It made sense, hell it still makes sense. We had a carte blanche and ignored- no worse, we justified the casualties with the greater good.”

 

“Yeah, that’s a bunch of bullshit.” It is. So is running around in spandex trying to make the world a better place, but that’s more of a personal anecdote rather than what the Avengers do. Stark’s right in that though, if you’re going to operate globally, someone better check with you to make sure things aren’t getting out of control. She shouldn’t agree with the Accords, but she does. She learned about the consequences of her powers before Stark even built his first suit; before they thawed Steve Rogers; before supposed gods fell to Earth. She’s seen what her powers can do, what other people’s powers can do. Keeping the ones who step up to save the world as a whole in check? Yeah good idea, even if politics can get messy. That’s why she’s never joined the club.

 

“You’re right.” Stark gets up with a sigh. “I shouldn’t have bothered you with this.”

“If I wasn’t going to help, I’d have thrown you out of the building already.” She takes a sip and fuck that shit is good. “Look, at this point I think we have to admit that we’re friends even if I’m not joining your gang, I still can help out a friend.”

 

Of course, this begins with Stark telling her about all the algorithms he’s used, facial recognition software, spy satellites, and so on and so forth. Jessica rolls her eyes at him and grabs her laptop and phone and plops back down on the chair beside him. To Stark’s credit, she only has to shoo him away from hovering over her shoulder once. She spends five minutes on google before she picks up her phone. Another five to convince the concierge of the hotel that she is a concerned wife looking for her husband who looks just like Steve Rogers, but assuredly is not because Steve Rogers would not leave his pregnant wife at home while gallivanting around the globe with his BFF who has a pretty amazing metal-looking prosthetic. That gets her a verbal confirmation that they’d been there, paid in cash, and the concierge who wasn’t at all listening to their conversation may have overheard something. Six searches, nine phone calls, and a couple of Snaps with Tony Stark later, she scribbles down an address.

 

“They’re in Germany. At least that’s where Scott Lang is going to land tomorrow morning, local time.” Stark’s face is blank. “Just take my word on this, okay? They’ll meet Lang and whoever else arrives in Leipzig tomorrow. Don’t go there alone. They seem to be ready to make a stand when you aren’t.”

 

Okay, so some of it is genuine concern for Stark’s well-being. The guy looks like he’s been through hell. Can’t be easy to be a part of something so big only to watch it crumble under its own good intentions. He stares off into nothing like he hasn’t heard what she’s said, but Jessica knows he’s figuring out where to go for support. And maybe, maybe he will manage to calm things down long enough for both sides to start talking. Maybe he will mitigate some of the fallout of this. She’s not going to hold her breath on that. As long as they keep it out of the city this time, she also doesn’t care. Yeah, the world’s a terrible place and people all over it need help, but so do people right here. People who have lived in the shadow of Stark and Avengers Tower since its inception and no one’s ever helped them. Maybe that Devil guy in Hell’s Kitchen has it right. It’s easier to manage a couple of blocks than an entire planet and the people there are no less grateful. Someone has to look out for the people who are overlooked even though they’re right in front of the nose of the Avengers. That’s not what they do, maybe unfortunately, maybe for the better, Avengers don’t make sure some asshole isn’t taking advantage of people who just need an affordable place to live. Or that regular people aren’t caught in the crossfire of a bunch of crime lords. The Avengers don’t look for runaways and don’t help those who fall through the cracks of society. No, that’s what she does. That’s kind of who she is: Jessica Jones- kind of cares sometimes because hell, no one else is going to.

 

“I have to convince a teenager to come to Germany with me.” Stark moves suddenly to pull his phone from his pocket. “It’s not that far from here.”

 

“That’s a felony waiting to happen and you know it.”

 

“Don’t have a choice, he’s the kind of person who might sway the balance of this whole thing.”

 

“You’re enlisting a child to fight your battles, Stark?” She raises an eyebrow. It seems out of character even for Stark.

 

“Preventing. I’m trying to prevent battles.” He empties the rest of his glass and heads to the door. “Not too late to join, you know.”

 

“Ah, but we both know I’d hate it,” she doesn’t get up. “Besides, I’m needed here and it’s kind of a good feeling to help my neighbourhood. Giving back and all that.”

 

“You changed Jessica Jones.” Stark’s half smile is obnoxiously handsome. “My door is always open if you change your mind.”

 

“Well mine is not.” But she’s smiling, too. “Knock next time. Now get out.”

 

He leaves without another word. Tomorrow, Jessica is going to open one of her Facebook accounts and see tons of trending articles on whatever the hell is going to go down across the ocean. She’s about to pick up her phone and call Trish when there is a soft knock on her door followed by a woman dressed way too well for this part of town. Jessica narrows her eyes. Well-dressed, briefcase, definitely the air of a law firm around her. The eyes are too kind for a shark or even any lawyer she’s ever met, so Jessica stands up and doesn’t tell her to leave.

 

“What can I do for you?”

 

“Jessica Jones?” The woman says with eyes definitely too kind to be a lawyer and a voice that tells Jessica this woman cares a lot, maybe too much. “I’m Karen Page and we need to talk.”

 

 


End file.
